Lost Wizard
by Nyanko-sensei Yu
Summary: After the war, Harry Potter was different. War does that, changes a person. Harry was sick and tired of the wizarding world, of its obsession with blood purity and the cautious whispers of Harry becoming Dark. His beautiful magic decides enough is enough after the remaining Death Eaters continuously target Harry one time too many.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, Man-Who-Conquered, and Master of Death, was lost. He stood awkwardly in a crowded street of busy people, confused and faint. Harry groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose to ease a stinging headache. Letting out a shaky breath as the memories returned to him.

 _He angrily stalked down the streets of Knockturn Alley, fuming over the argument he just had with Ginny. Fuming in anger, he hardly noticed the crowd, much less the one man following him. Harry's magic swirled furiously inside his chest, eager to burst free, but Harry held it back. He stepped into an alleyway with fewer people, leaning his forehead against the cool bricks of the shop when he sensed someone watching him. Feet planted themselves in his peripheral vision and a wand rose._

 _Instinctively, Harry let his magic loose as the spell was shot out in a sickly green color of the Avada Kedavra. Magic clashed with the spell, expelling a torrent of wind, and crackling the air full of energy. Runes lit up alongside the floor and walls surrounding Harry, completely foreign and unintelligible to Harry. His eyes, matching the sickly green curse, glared back to the man as his magic somehow absorbed the curse and targeted the man. The man reared back as if struck, stunned and baffled. Harry watched as, once more, the Death Eaters magic was ejected from his body and swallowed by his own before Harry's magic ripped through the man with all the viciousness of a protective mother._

 _The others in the alleyway were in stunned paralysis, staring at Harry with surprise and horror before they recognized him a moment later and begun whispering. This brought attention from the rest of the alley and some from Diagon Alley as people whispered of dark magic. Just another reason Harry was sick and tired of the wizarding world. It held none of its beauty or wonders anymore now with all the stares following him wherever he went and the expectations shoved down his throat._

 _Nowadays he spent most of his time hiding in Grimmauld Palace, in the library away from a flirtatious Ginny and nosey Order members. Hermione would be proud to know a number of books he's read since the war if she wasn't so busy with Ron and starting their own family. They hardly had time for him, visiting occasionally but always trying to suggest getting back together with Ginny. Harry never even told them how many times he'd been attacked already by vengeful Death Eaters or how his magic had eaten their magic without Harry needed to utter a single spell, acting on its own will to protect Harry much like it had all the years living with the Dursleys._

 _Harry's magic crackled in warning when they started to crowd around him, nervously shifting into a thick ocean of energy surrounding Harry. Harry just couldn't deal with this anymore, not the stares and whispers, nor the constant attacks by both the paparazzi and the remaining Death Eaters. He just wanted to leave. And so his magic did as requested._

A hand on his arm startled him, making him jump to the side and only make his headache worse. Letting another pained groan escape, he flinched when a voice addressed him. "Are you okay?" The young woman, wearing muggle nurse clothes, quickly assessed him. She even pulled out a flashlight to flick it in his eyes and snapped her fingers to check his response time.

Harry pulled away, feeling nauseous at a stranger's touch. "I'm fine, just a headache." He hated it when strangers touched him, even if they brushed by him on accident made his skin crawl unpleasantly. Probably the fault of his lovely relatives, of course, for raising him in such a loving and caring environment. Any more sarcasm and Harry might vomit.

The nurse seemed to notice his aversion to her touch and her hands hovered uncertainly near him when Harry staggered unsteadily. Reaching for his magic, Harry was devastated to find it exhausted for some reason, but at least it was recovering quickly. His both sagged, mind numbing and his body falling back, caught by the concerned nurse.

Tired. The word repeated in Harry's head and his magic hummed tiredly in assurance, telling him without words that it will protect him even in its exhausted state is need be.

Forcing his eyes open before he fully passed out, he muttered a quiet, "Sorry" for the poor nurse who was likely to be the one taking care of him. Before his blurry eyes, he thought for sure that her face shifted into something vaguely doe-like and an expression of awe overcome her features.

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 ** _Ok. I had too. I love the crossovers for Harry Potter and Grim but they almost never update or are short. So, I decided to do my own. It will be mostly short chapters like my KHR fanfic because I can update those almost every week (unless you want long chapters only updated like once a year)._**

 ** _Harry Potter comes in before season 1. Also, I do NOT OWN anything from Grimm or Harry Potter, merely writing my own_** ** _FAN_** ** _fiction of the two together._**

 ** _I will update my KHR fic sometime tonight, so don't worry._**

 ** _Comment if you want more! Author notes will not be shown anymore unless needed._**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Wow! I was surprised how many favorited and followed so quickly! I hope to update this at least once a week, if my schedule will allow it. This fic is not slash, sorry to those who wanted it and your welcome to those who did not, because I just can't write slash fics for the life of me – not that I've actually tried. Sure, I like several slash fics out there too, but none of mine will be slash. There is possible romance, but I don't think that it will happen for a long time._**

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Harry woke to an annoying beeping noise. His magic was fully recovered, twisting and shifting in colors but dominantly Avada Kedavra green. The magic swirled in the darkness of his closed eyes. When Harry slowly opened his eyes, the colors faded mostly but he could still see the twisting lights of his magic around him. No matter how many times he saw the magic, he could not explain the depth of beauty it held and the awe it filled him with. It brushed him lovingly and when he held up his hand, curled around each finger with a ready crackle of energy.

Diagon Alley and the rest of the wizarding world was full of magic, but the magic seemed so constrained and lifeless in comparison.

Since he had died and come back, his magic and the world's ambient magic was visible to him, his vision was no longer blurry and required glasses. But he couldn't just show up without them and expect his friends to go oblivious, so he got new glasses with no prescription. Since they were no longer the circular glasses and age defined his features, he no longer looked like a copy of his father. His mother was there in his eyes of course, but also his cheekbones and the shape of his face.

A knock at the door made Harry jump, heart picking up in alarm and his magic spiking. Even from behind the door, Harry could see a small amount of magic in the person as they opened the door. Big brown eyes and heart face made Harry instantly recognize her as the nurse who had chanced upon him before he fell unconscious.

Harry studied her face for a moment after she simply stared at him, about to dismiss his hallucination before until her face _rippled_. Like before, her eyes nearly doubled in size and her eyebrows thinned, the bridge of her nose more pronounced. Ears turned more oval-shaped with a slight tip like an Elf's and her skin was tinted green. Stunned, Harry merely stared just like she did to him.

Since his magic didn't react negatively to the change, nor did the woman's tiny magic didn't sharpen in hostility, Harry relaxed slightly and smiled politely. Her magic gave him the sense of kindness and innocence, so she must not be dangerous. Perhaps she was a magical creature he didn't know about? He wasn't exactly an expert in magical creatures, nor did he really study much about them when he became a hermit – basically – in Grimmauld Palace.

The nurse blinked her face rippling and returning to human, and returned the smile cheerfully. Even the way she walked over vaguely reminded Harry of how a deer would walk, dancing lightly on her feet without making noise. "Hello, you look like you're feeling much better. The doctors only diagnosed exhaustion and stress, so you're free to leave whenever you're ready."

"Ah, thank you." Harry nodded in thanks, taking his folded clothes she handed him, only now noticing he was in the standard hospital clothes. She hovered next to him excitedly as if she was waiting for something, and he smiled in confusion.

"I'm Hope Patterson, nice to meet you," She held her hand out expectantly, arm shaking in her excitement. Harry wondered if she just happened to recognize him and was just another fangirl, because then at least it meant she could help him Floo back home and forget this whole incident.

"Harry Potter," He introduced, probably unnecessary considering her excitement, and shook her hand obligingly.

"It's nice to meet you, the doctors needed your name to finish the report and you will just need to sign out on the clipboard next to the front desk." He thanked her once more and ignoring her strange reluctance to leave, went to the bathroom to change.

 ** _OoO_**

Harry was glad that he had started to wear his magic-shrunk trunk on a necklace. It was a family trunk he found in the Potter vault, which was connected to his Gringotts bank accounts. Though he had to compromise with the Goblins to "forgave" him. Just thinking about it made Harry tired. He returned them the Gryffindor sword and then gave them his memories of the event to prove that he had only taken the Hufflepuff Cup to get rid of Voldyshorts.

He had some muggle money in the trunk, so he took it out so he could pay the hospital bill. Since it had the Capacious extremis, the extension charm, on it, he usually held most of his possessions in there for safe keeping after placing whatever protection spells he found on it. It also had a few pairs of clothes, some simple potions he taught himself (since Snape never actually taught correctly), his broom, and just about everything he would ever need.

Really, it would seem too convenient, but Harry had long decided to be prepared because trouble always finds him.

Now fully changed back into his clothes, Harry glanced over at the mirror in the bathroom, watching his magic reflect off the mirror beautifully. A surge of affection through his magic made him smile, comforted by something that he knew would never betray him or be busy with something else. Harry frowned when he realized that sounded very pitiful, but shrugged, this was just how he was.

When he left the room, the nurse was still there. Harry paused, uncomfortable yet again in the face of an admiring stranger. Harry smiled uncertainly, wishing he could be used to these kinds of people. Finally, she jumped, blinked, and smiled apologetically for her behavior. Harry thanked God and let her lead him out to the front desk.

When she wasn't looking, he sighed in relief and relaxed more. He had no problem signing out and paying up front at the desk his charge, but then he caught sight of one of the secretaries' newspaper.

 **PORTLAND TRIBUNE**

Why did it say that the year was 2011? Wasn't it still 1998? Harry really hoped he didn't completely defy even the laws of magic and somehow teleport himself into the future. Perhaps it's because of those rune's in the alleyway? Harry didn't have a clue, nor did have a handy time turner. Running a hand through his already messy hair, Harry sighed deeply and resisted the urge to hit his head against the counter.

"Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Hope appeared worriedly, face immediately rippling into the now familiar doe-like creature.

"Ah, um…" What could Harry possibly say? "Yes, I just realized I haven't met with my friend yet. We had planned to meet the day when you found me, but I wasn't feeling well and you happened to find me when I collapsed." Harry hoped that sounded possible enough.

"Oh, well, you are welcome to use the hospital phone to call them." Harry mentally cheered that he didn't have to do any more awkward lies.

"Yes, thank you." Harry stared at the hospital phone, realizing the only one of his friends to actually have a phone was Hermione. Unless he was desperate enough to call the Dursleys, which he wasn't. Groaning, Harry put in her number and waited.

However, when the line connected, it was definitely not Hermione's voice that came through. For one, it was a male's voice and it couldn't have been Ron because Ron would be more likely to hex the phone in surprise rather than actually know how to answer. He hung up immediately, magic rolling and expressing his agitation the way his outward expression didn't.

Suddenly, the feeling of innocence and kindness was back. Turning around, Harry was proved right when Hope was in sight. Relaxing, since it was hard to freak out when her strange magic was rather calming in nature, Harry turned to study her instead. Her peaceful aura seemed to have the same reaction to the other patients as well, so Harry assumed it had something to do with her creature heritage.

His train of thought was interrupted when a hand curled around his and he looked down to see a young boy clutching his hand and staring up at him. The poor kid's eyes were red with strain and he looked positively ill, but it seemed to heal partially as the kid held onto him. Then the kid's face rippled just like Hope's had, though he distinctly resembled a beaver, and the change from human to the creature was more drastic than Hope's had. He grew a coat of dull golden fur, though his brown hair remained as it was, his noses became black, he grew whiskers and his front teeth grew out into buckteeth.

Much like Hope was, the kid stared wide-eyed, eyes flickering around Harry and on him. Before Harry could say anything, the kid's father ran up and apologized, pulling the kid back. He was rather short, though Harry couldn't really be one to state that since he was too, with short blond hair and his skin was a bit red. Unlike his son, the man seemed timider in nature and his face rippled into the creature form just like his son's.

The man froze in the middle of his multiple apologize and stared. Harry, quickly becoming tired of this running trend and wondering why he was suddenly running into so many people with creature heritage that made them transform like a Veela did, smiled and muttered a quick, "it's no problem," and left the hospital quickly.

Only, as he quickly walked down the streets, he swore he caught more transformations in the corners of his eyes. Pretending not to notice this time, Harry rushed away.

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 ** _Yeah, Harry has no clue what any of them are. Hope and the other Wesen doesn't realize he can see their woge either because he didn't react in horror or fear or even surprise like many other regular people might have. Harry also is not a Grimm here, so they don't see the whole depths of darkness in his eyes. Harry is a wizard, so he doesn't find it that unusual or impossible, but he is rather confused. And to confirm, yes, he is in the Grimm world, so his reputation doesn't exist but he doesn't know about that yet._**

 ** _Oh, and Hope isn't – like – in love with him or something. I'm just doing something different than the rest of the Harry Potter and Grimm crossovers. You'll just have to wait and see why she was reacting like that. XD_**

 ** _Tell me what you think! Did I write Harry well?_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Haha. No, Harry will not be some sort of Jesus-figure to the Wesen – Haha. I have a reason and explanation for everything, but I don't want to spoil it yet. You'll all find out when Harry does. XD_**

 ** _Thanks for the feedback! I love hearing from you guys._**

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Coincidence? Impossible, much to Harry's misfortune. Insanity? Well, he's still debating that one. Sure, Harry could sense a small, squib-like magic in each of them, but as far as Harry knew, sensing magic was as unusual as him being a parslemouth. Maybe dying just made him more bonkers than he was before or perhaps it started with a few too many hits to the head in his childhood.

If the creature-descendants got too close to him or brushed by, their magic would react to his own, bursting open like a floodgate and causing their transformation of their appearances. It only lasted around a minute and wasn't repetitive, considering how many times Harry had gone in circles around the city, passing some of them several times and they never shifted a second time unless they seemed really startled or upset.

Harry attempted to ignore it, at least relieved that no one had tried to mob him for autographs or quotes, but it was really fascinating to see. Harry's own magic would react with a twisting whip of magic like a snake prepared to strike with a bright flare of orange-red before it cooled back to Avada Kedavra green, which Harry was hard-pressed to ignore. But Harry respected anyone's hate for attention and pretended not to notice, since he would prefer it if they did the same.

A few creature-descendants would stare in wonder, those are the people whose magic gave him generally positive emotions and characteristics, but the vast majority was more stunned than anything. But Harry was more confused with the _amount_ of them. For every ten muggles, there was one of creature decent. Perhaps this town is an American safe haven of sorts? Do they have those in America?

He'll ask Hermione later.

Maybe because all the magical creatures got sick and tired of the treatment in other countries (Cough, like the Wizarding population in Europe) and came to America. Harry knew that, despite some of Hermione's valent efforts, that the Wizarding World still treated magical creatures like inferior beasts – or at least the England's part did.

America was known for being tolerant and acceptive of just about any kind of creature as long as they followed the laws, both the magical and muggle laws. Asian countries were strict about migration or immigration, but they treated their population just as they dealt with the Wizards kind. Other countries like Africa and South America were open for any magical to enter really, since they had made treaties with the magical creatures for years and were more connected on a spiritually magic sense to them than any other society.

Australia was just, no. Only the most dangerous magical creatures existed there alongside the similarly dangerous muggle creatures, but there were only small pockets of Wizarding kind there and most magical creatures couldn't survive over in such a different environment with formable threats.

Regardless, Harry restlessly tracked the flow of magic in effort to find an entrance into America's Wizarding World. It proved quite a waste of time, considering all he kept running into were dead ends. Hell, he even tried calling the Night Bus despite the nausea it induced. Either it was ridiculously protected or every Wizard kind in America was keyed into the wards or something, possibly to keep out the muggles who accidently stumble through wards or follow wizards in nosily. Though muggle-repealing charms were exceedingly useful, they were very suspicious should there be a group intentionally trying to enter but realize that something weird is happening to their memories.

The areas with the strongest sources of magic were in rather random areas, as if America's Wizarding World's floo connection was all scrambled or broken or if they had literally no idea why their magic was stronger in certain areas. Honestly, one was directly where two buildings were connected, another in a construction yard, etc. The only one that made sense was this quaint spice shop owned by some fox-descendant man, since any potions made there would be twice as effective. However, the man clearly had no inkling as to what Harry was subtly hinting. It was a hint about the Wizarding World that any magical creature should have understood easily, but nothing possibly revealing to someone ignorant of their own creature heritage.

Just Harry's luck that his best-possible chance was completely blown out of the water.

Merlin, Harry's headache is just worse now. Slipping off his fake glasses to message the bridge of his nose, Harry sighed heavily. He could just ask some of the creature-descendants around here where it is, but he didn't want to draw any more attention than he already had. At least the muggles completely ignored the random teenager running around.

Harry hated mazes. They caused bad memories and resulted in never-ending confusion when you could be snug and quiet at home with some treacle tarts and pumpkin juice. So after several more time-wasting dead ends, sore hands from hitting the wall in frustration, and no small amount of anxiety, Harry finally just gave in and went up to the nearest person with a magic source. He didn't even care if he caused a scene or if he was breaking the stature, because at least the American Aurors would come storming in to obliviate whoever Harry told.

This transformation was particularly rat-like, which made Harry internally grimace and snarl, but Harry was too fed up to care for his lingering loathing for everything rat-like. "Would you please help me get into the American Magical world? I'm from England and I've never visited before, so I'm afraid I'm lost."

Harry expected several reactions; a sneer from a possible snobbish creature decedent who was inevitably triggered by a Wizard expecting him to help like a servant – Harry had several experiences with this- or the man possibly reacting with relatively polite understanding and quick directions or help.

But nope, Harry received the utmost look of confusion and clear disdain, as if Harry was just another crazy person. Although the man seemed stunned by something, like the others, his scowl could make puppies die. Harry immediately read distrust and a tinge of fear that was quickly drowned out by some self-resentment, quite familiar with each emotion himself.

Harry would be impressed if his glare did not pale in comparison to Snape's. It _did_ slightly offend him, reacting automatically out of habit (again, because of Snape and Malfoy) by bristling at the sneer, but he had grown used to both admiration and hatred. He had fangirls, sure, but there were still people who resented him for not killing Voldemort sooner or saving their loved ones.

The rat creature didn't even bother to reply, pushing past Harry with a scoff and disappearing into the crowd.

Well.

Harry was resigned with apparating back to Britain, using the ambient magic to help transport the distance even though it would likely knock him out and/or splinch a few limbs. Gathering his magic, he politely coaxed the ambient magic into assisting him, gasping when it all rushed around him eagerly. Swallowing hard, Harry winced at the thought of how sick this would feel and apparated using Grimmauld Palace as his destination.

The nausea was thrice as bad as usual considering the distance and the painful sensation of being sucked into an extremely tiny tube nearly had him pass out before he fully even apparated. Forcing him to continue, he vanished and was quite relieved to conk out the moment he landed.

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 ** _All right. Here you go!_**

 ** _I'll be updating my KHR story tomorrow sometime._**

 ** _Please leave a constructive review!_**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Review Responses:_**

 ** _The Aberrant One:_** _I'm glad you like my concept! I always prefer the "stranger in a strange land" route of my fanfics – so don't be surprised if any other of my future fanfic's have the similar approach. Mostly it's because I like taking a character I like, drop them into a different movie/book/anime, and see what happens. Also, don't worry, IF there is a pairing, it will come MUCH later on – I hate fast romance. I agree with Harry becoming friends with Bud and his family and good job at picking out who the Eisbiber kid and father was, Bud was always hilarious in the show, so he might come more commonly on my fic._

 ** _Heart4Wolves:_** _That whole line was rather spontaneous, really. I was thinking about it and thought, "Oh, God, if magical creatures are dangerous in England and some other countries, what would Australia be like?" Horrifying thought, but funny._

 ** _jozs001:_** _Thanks! I have a good (at least I hope so) grasp on Harry's persona, or what I think he is like, so I'm trying to keep true to him. This won't follow Grimm to the point, but Harry will definitely influence and change the course of things in the Grimm world._

 ** _Guest (s):_** _Thanks for all the advice! For the guest who mentioned that Harry has always had attention, that is true and I agree, I just meant that the Wizarding World has been acting like an obsessed stalker since Voldemort's defeat – following Harry's every move, having people alert them if he is seen, recording almost everything he says, making entirely TOO many articles about him for even the smallest things. People are either praising and loving him as a hero or hating him for not killing Voldemort earlier or saving people who died in the war. Before Harry was well-known but he could go through Diagon Alley without always being accosted like he is now in my fic. Hope that clears that up XD._

 ** _Archleone:_** _Yes, I replied to you personally already to reassure that I have no intention of making Harry a god-like person to the Wessen, but I just want to make sure any of the other readers know that as well. Harry will be powerful, but not undefeatable, especially since most Wesen attack with physical strength or traits (fangs, claws, etc) and Harry doesn't know how to fight hand-to-hand combat. I personally don't like paring Harry either unless it's very well done, which I likely can't do since I've never been in a close relationship to experience it myself. I'm glad to have caught your interest though!_

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Harry woke sluggishly, blindly moving his arms like a drunk hippogriff. His trunk around his neck was all tangled up and nearly choked him before he fixed it, but all Harry could think of were very vulgar curses at himself for being such a bloody idiot and how loud Mrs. Weasley would have scolded at him for such words. Stumbling drunkenly onto his feet, Harry groaned when a migraine hit him like a sledgehammer.

You are such an idiot, Harry whisper-screamed at himself. If he had merely apparated through the Key lines like usual, then he would feel infinitely times better. But unfortunately, thinking and impulsiveness don't go hand-in-hand. It didn't help that the ambient magic felt so much thicker than usual, rushing at and through him as he used it. He wondered if someone had done a ritual lately in Portland since rituals of any kind tend to gather magic in the location. It was all too eager to help and, while Harry was glad, he could only handle so much magic at once.

Pausing to let the worst of it pass until it was only throbbing, Harry studied the area. So far, everything looked as it should, excluding several baffled stares from some people who saw him apparate. Honestly, if the Ministry doesn't come running to find who caused such a huge magical distortion in the middle of a bunch of muggles, Harry would force them all to retire using the very influence that he hated as the Man-Who-Conquered.

But Harry could care less about the startled muggles, focused on Grimmauld Place in front of him. It matched the surrounding buildings perfectly, reminding him disgustingly of Private Drive, rather than appearing damaged and darker than the rest. The strangest part was how he wasn't allowed to apparate directly into the house like he should have been as the Black Lord.

"Oh, bloody hell. Why does something always go wrong?" Harry complained under his breath, fixing his rumpled clothes, not even bothering with his hair. "I couldn't just get into Grimmauld Place, contact Hermione to figure out why there were so many creature-descendants in America, and why American Wizards there suck at finding the very obvious magic lines and track down that bastard who did this so I can smack him around a bit."

Hearing him talk to himself, the bystanders wrote him off as just another crazy person and speed-walked away. Harry preferred that reaction rather than people recognizing him and trying to mob him to touch him or get interviews, so he merely continued and tried to unlock Grimmauld Place. Only, his key didn't fit. Okay, Harry was so over this. Why was nothing working like it should?

"Alohomora," His wandless spell made the lock click open audibly and Harry opened the door, stepped in, and shut it behind him. Um, did Ginny decorate this place without asking again? She always said it was too dark and gloomy in here and Hermione agrees, so Hermione must have helped her get in without triggering his Ginny-Alert wards. Or Ron let Ginny in an attempt to make Harry get back together with Ginny. Either possible answer was disturbing. After the first few times, Ginny has made his house blind worthy and tried to flirt, Harry warded the house from her specifically despite Mrs. Weasley's attempts to calm him down.

The layout was the same but everything was modern, bright, and colorful. Reds, pink, and purple decorated the furniture, muggle music blasted from the living room, and the smell of cinnamon wafted from the kitchen. Harry studied the pictures in confusion, picking up several in search for his one picture with Sirius. In all frames were strangers, rich-looking considering all of their jewelry and the professional photography that Petunia would be jealous over, but strangers all the same.

At this point, Harry was desperately hoping that Ginny might have picked up some of the twin's mischievous side after he screamed at her to sod off. Turning into the kitchen, Harry came face-to-face with a younger woman who froze, dropping her tray of cinnamon buns, and gaped before screaming shrilly. "W-What are you doing in MY HOUSE!?"

Harry apparated blindly to escape the wrath of the pissed off, pink wearing, teenage muggle. Hopefully, she might just think she was crazy seeing some scruffy-haired man in her room vanish without a trace.

To his luck, of course, Harry landed on the side of a hill. And, since Harry can apparently never apparate or floo without stumbling, he followed the law of gravity. Or, more like, he was forced to follow. So down the hill Harry went, until he smacked back-first into a tree. Groaning, Harry sat up slowly and rubbed his aching back. He groaned louder when he realized the sun was almost set and though his eyesight was perfect after his death, he couldn't see in the dark unless he used mage sight to see the magical signatures or ambient magic.

"All right, no more apparating." Harry dusted off his clothes vainly, before simply using a quick cleaning and repair charm for the dirt and tears. He was grateful that Mrs. Weasley ended up teaching him housework spells, claiming he needed to take care of his house if he refused to get any house elves. Though Harry did clean himself, the habit ingrained into his body because of the Dursleys, Grimmauld Place was just too big to do himself.

Something wrapped around his wrist, "Merlin!" Harry jumped in surprise, magic surging in defense to cut whatever was holding him off. Harry looked where it fell, but there was nothing other than twigs and leaves. Calming down his racing heart, irritated and scouring the area for a threat through the dense forest, Harry dropped his wand into his hands from the invisible holster on his wrist that Moody had thrown at him after one of their training sessions.

Something vaguely snake-like curled around his waist curiously and Harry snatched it before it could retreat. It was bark. More accurately, a vine-like bark that could wiggle around with all the flexibility as real vines but more durable. Confused rather than annoyed now, Harry followed the vine to where it attached to a gigantic tree. The vine didn't pull back, sewing itself through and over Harry's fingers before trailing up his forearm.

Instead of alarmed, Harry was relieved. Hell, even if it was trying to kill him, he would be relieved. Because normal trees didn't attack at all, so it must be a magical tree. He wasn't alone, that is, if you count the sentience this tree has and the creature-descendants. Its magic was comforting, despite the quiet stillness of the forest.

Now that Harry was focusing more, he could feel the key line directly under the tree, which was pulling him closer slowly. Stepping over its massive tree roots, Harry's unfocused eyes noticed a face-like pattern on the tree side.

Usually, he would dismiss it as coincidence, but this was a magical tree. Faces don't just show up on trees for no reason. The bark of the tree was twisted with vines covering every part except each face and moss growing from the vines. Curiously, he prodded it with his magic the tree lit up bright forest green, the face brighter than the rest. That's when Harry noticed several other bright spots high above him in the branches, which he assumed must be more faces.

 _Well, here's a setting to a horror story,_ Harry mused. Several more bark-vines jolted off to latch onto him, sucking pinpricks at his magic, but the amount was equivalent to a mosquito taking blood. It was weird, but considering how it grows right above the key line, Harry figures that it feeds off magic. The faces on its trunk and branches were telling him it possibly needed more than ambient magic, which Harry warily tried to decide whether it was moral or not.

Now Harry wasn't as prejudiced as he led everyone to believe. He never showed his natural mistrust or apprehension of other people, except to the Slytherins and would push blame on them like so many others did because that's what was expected of him. It was hard not to flinch whenever his admirers reached out to him, sometimes even hard when Hermione and Ron hugged him without warning. Magical creatures were different, however. They didn't kill out for fun, but for food and occasional revenge for one of their own being killed.

This tree possibly couldn't survive without magic or whatever it needed from humans, so it merely was feeding itself. Of course, this is where the morality of the situation comes into play. The British Ministry would probably classify this tree a dark creature simply because it usually kills what it eats, considering the faces the tree either engraves their faces for some reason or absorbs it into itself, and Harry didn't want to agree with anything they say.

So, Harry allowed it to continue, the vines curling around his body but never attacking and stopped pulling him closer when he was in arms reach of its trunk. It was rather relaxing, much to his own surprise, and a great relief after the ambient magic had surged through him before. It wasn't painful in the least, simply drinking away his excess magic that hovered around him with its vines while curling around him like a loving pet.

But what startled him next wasn't the tree, but it's mate casually waltzing over.

Unlike the tree rooted to the ground, this human-shaped tree was fully mobile. It closer than Harry was comfortable with, having blended in with the forest and was moving too slowly to actually startle Harry's reflexes. It was made of vines and bark, as far as Harry could tell, but it didn't act aggressively either. In fact, it tilted its head like a dog and watched. It let out a low, bass type of sound that reminded Harry of a tree creaking.

Since they weren't actively trying to kill him, like ninety percent of the world tried to, Harry was quite happy for once in a long time. When the tree let go a few minutes later, the moon high in the sky, Harry was able to leave peacefully. He waved at the tree's friend, a polite habit more than anything, and followed where it pointed him to go. His sense of direction in a forest wasn't reliable and they didn't kill him while he was "tied up," so he followed the direction given.

Harry eventually found his way back into town, luckily not having apparated too far when that girl broke his eardrums and caught a ride from a taxi to Hermione and Ron's house. An elderly man answered the door, baffled but polite and waving away Harry's apology for disturbing him. Hastily, Harry went out to the Leaky Cauldron, but instead, it was a small cozy pastry shop filled with muggles. No sign of wizards, no wards in place around the building like usual, no opening on the bricks so he couldn't enter Diagon Alley.

Placing a hand against the brick, Harry nudged it with his magic like he did the tree, which usually would have lit up the magical sequence on the bricks, but it remained dull and unresponsive. It was as if the ministry spontaneously decided to move the opening to Diagon Alley for some reason. More worried and anxious than he was willing to admit, Harry nearly flew to the nearest key line of magic, with the same result he had before. Nothing. Dead-ends, nothing magical in the least.

"Well, that muggle phrase about Kansas would be perfect right now, if I could remember it," Harry muttered nervously under his breath, raking a hand through his windswept hair. He supposed he couldn't just ignore it and hope it was all on big mistake anymore. Something was seriously wrong. No Aurors, no magical cores except a few scattered or groups of creature-descendants, no ministry or magical world, no Hermione or Ron.

Well, what in Merlin's name was he supposed to do now? Studiously search for a nearly impossible way home? Find a convenient pensive to remember the symbols in that alleyway to redo whatever happened and luckily end up in the right dimension? He's not Hermione, for Merlin's sake, nor can he somehow conjure a magical pensive. Even if he read a lot, he didn't have the near-perfect memory she did, so he would have to refer to the very books that he didn't have. Sure, he had a good number of books in his shrunken trunk, but nothing that could possibly have anything about teleporting dimensions.

Okay, enough depressing thoughts. He had enough of those for two lifetimes already.

Either way, Harry was curious about these creature-descendants. Though he had felt a few close by while at Grimmauld Place, it was nowhere near the amount in Portland. It was also strange how he only started feeling them after he woke up in Portland when he should have felt at least a few whenever he had sauntered off into the muggle world for a break from the magical world. In the forest, since there was a key line there, more magical creatures should have been there than just the tree and its friend. Sure, it could have eaten the others, but the faces he could see were all human and the muggle animals weren't afraid of the tree.

Harry sighed in frustration, wondering what he should do now. Apparently, he was homeless now and the magical world has vanished. Portland, Oregon. The place he woke up in, home to hundreds of creature-descendants. Harry really hoped fate wasn't out to get him again because investigating the creature situation was the only thing he could think of doing now. Searching other countries for entry without permission into the magical world was illegal, even with his fame. It was also futile since he couldn't enter Britain's magical section. Harry wasn't delusional enough to believe the entire magical world was on lockdown and refuse to let Harry, their "Beloved Savior" according to the Daily Prophet, inside.

So, now that he was thinking relatively clearly, Harry went to the nearest Key line and latched his magic onto it. This time, he vanished without the echoing crack into the magic of the Earth. The Key lines were all attached similarly to a spider's web, some stronger or weaker than others, but Portland's were some of the strongest among the lines. Harry would have remembered that on earlier apparitions through the line, making his situation even more confusing.

He didn't have time to ponder the implications before he found the right Key line connection and appeared above where he was certain was no walls or people in his way. Splinching or accidental mutilation is never fun, especially with the other party freaking out.

Harry was alone in the alleyway, thankfully, and not nearly as disoriented or nauseous as the last apparition. Walking out of the alleyway, he shrugged and randomly started to follow one of the creature-decedents that he could feel. Probably not the best plan, but he knew he couldn't just walk up and ask him it straight to his face. Most magical creatures or creature-descendants prefer to blend in and hate being called out by Wizards, understandably content to live a normal life among muggles who are not bigots against their race.

Eavesdropping was his choice, yet again. He summoned the invisibility cloak from his trunk with the whispered password to open it, waited until the crowd thinned and the people were paying no attention and swept it over his body.

 ** _000000000000000_**

 ** _Oh, and if you're wondering how long since Harry has defeated Voldemort, I would say it has been about two years, so Harry is 19 in my fanfic. During this time, Harry has been reading more. Harry strikes me as the sort to read what interests him, but to stubbornly skim or refuse what he is told to read (like in school), which is why his grades were never the best (also because Ron was a rather bad influence in that case and because Harry isn't good with orders – evidently)._**

 ** _Anyways, sorry for the late update. Hope the length of this chapter makes up for it!_**

 ** _PS:_** _Thank you JKS16 for pointing out my mistake – honestly, I got mixed up with a different fic on another account._

 ** _It should be rather obvious what the tree is if you're keeping up with the Grimm episodes. Guess in the comments why it doesn't kill Harry and why it "ate" his magic._**

 ** _Comment if you want more!_**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yo! I'm alive. I know, surprising, right?**

 **Yeah, I'm in college now and the first semester was murder, so I didn't update. Sorry about that but I should be updating more often as long as I keep the chapters around 3-4 K words a piece. If you want longer chapters, its likely to take months at a time. Unlike some other great authors here – I don't quite have that . . . work ethic? Motivation? I'm lazy XD.**

 **Also, those recent reviews were amusing. Especially that demanding guest – it made me burst iut laughing and realize I probably should update. A good number of reviewers also remembered the nature elemental (technically not a wesen apparently according to the wiki) from a later season too named Kinoshimobe that usually is found in Japan.**

 **Oh! And I plan to update my KHR fic soon too, depending on my homework load.**

 **Either way, enjoy!**

 **000000000000000000000**

Harry James Potter was not a stalker.

Sure, he may have snuck around back in Hogwarts to listen in on conversations and occasionally followed a few suspicious people… okay that doesn't help. But seriously, he _was_ right most of the time. He had a good reputation for finding the baddies. Not that he was labeling these creature-descendants guilty right off the bat, but Harry knows full well how lucky or unlucky his is. Because he was the _great_ , the _magnificent_ , and the _almighty_ Harry Potter after all.

Urgh, cringe inducing complements; some faked to flatter him or get his attention, but some people actually meant it and Harry had long ago decided the later was worse. Harry might have a strong magical core, but he was anything but almighty or magnificent. He was just Harry and that's how he liked it. Seriously, Harry had traveled around the world in disguises just to get away from Britain, eventually learning how to cloak and protect his magical signature to avoid all the people searching for him.

Politics were another nightmare. Now that Harry held the Potter, Slytherin (due to his victory against Voldy), and Black seats, Harry really couldn't just avoid attending the meetings unless he wanted all the purebloods to make more laws against muggleborns or magical creatures. The only joy Harry takes from it is when he cheerfully crushes their greedy ambitions in every Wizengamot meeting, where he basically can veto any bills they tried for with his seats as Lord and his influence as "savior," eternally snickering all the while. As the Man-Who-Conquered, any other the non-prejudiced Wizengamot members followed Harry's unintentional lead with the help of Hermione who, to her overly enthusiastic delight, created laws for the betterment of Britain.

Not that it mattered much anymore, considering the wizarding world doesn't exist here. It should be fine, though, since Hermione can take his place. He has named her as his stand-in or surrogate if he wasn't available – at least this way she could change the wizarding world for the better. Harry might be a leader, but he was no politician and Hermione wasn't called the Brightest Witch of her age for nothing. Either way, Harry should deviate a way to communicate through his trunks connection to Gringotts to contact them his friends if he can't find a way back.

Despite the ache in his chest longing for Hermione, Ron, or any of his long-time friends, Harry was beginning to find it difficult to be sad over the whole "being catapulted into another dimension" thing. If he could talk through one of those communication mirrors or however he manages to contact then, it wouldn't really be much different than him hiding away in the Black house or a nice cottage his parents had left him. To be honest, now that they were out of school, getting together to just hang out or whatever was rather rare with Hermione and Ron with their jobs and romantic life.

Cue shudder as terrible, _terrible_ memories haunt him.

So, as pathetic as it might sound. Harry had very little to miss. After all, he had gone through life just trying to _survive_ rather than actually live. Besides, the ambient magic here was thick and relaxing, almost reminding Harry of a comforter warmly wrapped around him except it wasn't literally a solid, tangible thing unless Harry directly manipulated it. Otherwise it was rather refreshing, rather than cumbersome to feel the magic so healthy and abundant here. Harry imagined an analogy would be a city person breathing in unpolluted (or as much as possible) air. The people here were also clueless about who he was, so he didn't have to worry about anonymity, politics, or never-ending expectations. It was pleasant.

Shaking out of his thoughts, Harry backed away from the bright house, rubbing his eyes to clear the dark spots as he walked away into the night. He was done with trying to eavesdrop for some information. He was fine with skipping a few meals, but just because the poor creature-descendant was jumpy didn't mean they were guilty of something. Considering that the man and his family transformed into rodent-like animal, so Harry theorized it was just in their nature to be alert. Harry didn't like judging them by what creature they were either, although it might give insight to instincts and the like, since he remembers the Slytherin's jeers at Hagrid's half-giant heritage.

Initially, Harry did follow them because jumpy people either tended to let things slip or were up to something from what he's experienced so far and was proven accurate this time again. The man seemed to be one of the best sort of blokes though, considering how he lovingly treated his family and tried to help his neighbors in any way he could; Harry would describe him more as peaceful and docile, if not just a bit nervous around strangers or intimidating predator-decedents.

Harry really didn't like sleeping outside either, he'd had enough of that while searching for Voldy's mini me's. He figured he should probably set up a base or something along those lines. Maybe he could befriend some people, maybe a creature-descendant or two and simply overhear or let them slip up that way. The only issue was that the creature-descendants did see something when they looked at him, at what Harry didn't know, that gave several different reactions. This, of course, would lead to curious inquiries that Harry did not know how to answer without seeming too suspicious yet or lying. Friendships go nowhere if they are based on lies.

Now he didn't expect this whole "new dimension" thing to be easy, in his experience, nothing was easy for him. But boo-hoo, Harry was long used to that too. At least it kept things interesting, Harry was so used to chaos that too much silence and peace made him jumpy since he was just waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop. The nervous ones he was following tended to transform frequently, since they were jumpier at noises, which prompted Harry to add a silencing charm on his clothes and voice.

 ** _OoO_**

Eventually, Harry realized the pattern in their transformations. Every time, although each creature-defendant seemed to have a slight variation, their transformations were triggered by snapping their heads to the side, or something along that line, and occurred either by choice or whenever affected by strong emotion. It was really fascinating to watch, Harry had to stop himself from staring like a moron more often than he'd like to admit.

And as awkward and embarrassed as it made him feel, the best information came with bed time stories to the creature-descendants. Of course, Harry couldn't put much trust in bed time stories, but it was interesting to listen to. Most revolved around these humans that could see them called Grimm's –Harry supposed their magic was hiding their nature from the muggles and that perhaps squibs existed here with enough magic to see them – and how those humans are basically the boogeymen of creature-descendants. The creature-descendants were called _Wesen_ , German according to a language translating spell which simply means "a being" or "creature," which ranged from animal-like species to mythological.

Still, Harry couldn't expect, nor did he want, something terrible to happen to the family just to get some information. He decided to stop creeping around and simply wait for the trouble to come to him. It always does anyways.

 ** _OoO_**

Although Harry could live a few generations just on his trust vault money alone, and probably a few thousand years on the rest, he just didn't feel right using money he never earned for himself. His trust vault maybe, since it was intended for his use, but he swore not to touch the rest of it unless it was an emergency and Harry can't quite fathom needing that much money for any reason. Besides, it was all wizard money and he didn't exactly have Gringotts to exchange it. So, he would have to sell it gold and carrying around gold was suspicious.

It was also impossible, or well, not reliable, to try to live here without any record of existing in the first place. So, Harry was immeasurably glad that Hermione had nagged him about the government and muggle technology. He knew how to fix this. If this was still his world, he could have appealed for citizenship through America's Magical world, but this world felt entirely muggle except for the creature-descendants and those Grimm people they feared.

He found records of a deceased woman old enough to be his mother and resembled him close enough named Mariah Tindall. Since no one shared the vibrancy of his eyes here, he would switch it and say they came from an unknown father. It wasn't impossible, the woman seemed to have similar untamable, thick dark-brown hair.

She gave "birth" and left him at an orphanage due to financial issues, where he was traded around in the foster care system until now when he had his DNA tested and matched the woman. Luckily for him, she had few relatives and her parents had passed away already, so no fake family 'reunions' where he'd have to pretend to be their grandson. No guilt either.

It wasn't all that easy, though, he had to charm and use the confundus charm like a kid eats candy to get her DNA. Then magically inserted and mixed some of his DNA, which he had to do several times to get it right without destroying the DNA samples. He had done this before trying to avoid the wizarding paparazzi, since they had resorted to getting muggles for help fining him using his DNA when he had hidden his magical signature or took a potion to temporarily change it.

In the end, it worked, and he was registered as her child, a citizen of the United States. As a kid passed through the foster care, keeping track of his "records" in the system was difficult enough but a _convenient_ fire kept them from realizing Harry's ploy.

 ** _OoO_**

As Harry was saying, he had no shortage of money. But he didn't like giant houses either. Sure, he liked having space, but big houses seemed like a waste of space to Harry. As is, Harry still has the occasional moments of confusion whenever he wakes up in a nice room rather than the dark and musty cupboard ceiling or a cluttered storage-like second room the Dursley's had "kindly" given him.

Admittedly, it also felt too vulnerable even with wards and muggle security systems simply because he was so used to confined space. Hogwarts was huge, but the amount of people living there for school was enough to warrant it. It was surprising how small Hogwarts could feel with there was several hundred of them in the same room or even just four others in his House room. But normal houses don't have the same sentience as Hogwarts. With the warm magic of the castle, it never felt too big or to lonely.

Harry was just happy he didn't have deal with claustrophobia.

However, he was still picky and there was a limited number of houses or apartments. In the end, he settled cheerfully for a nice one-person apartment with a large kitchen that was open to the living room. The bedroom was simple and cozy, and he spent a good amount of time at the furniture store trying out mattresses for the perfect firm but comfortable bed. The apartment even had a small deck with a beautiful view of the city below and the mountains in the distance.

He also managed to get a part time job at a restaurant after letting them sample his cooking and baking skills. It was a bit more than minimum wage, but again, Harry didn't really care for money in the first place. It felt nice to cook with people who actually appreciate it and will pay him for it. He felt a bit vindicated and almost smug, his happiness was revenge against the Dursley's, even if they would never know. He could imagine how pissed they would feel with how much praise Harry receives for his cooking and tips he gets.

The restaurant was called Screen Door, which was mildly odd to Harry, and served Southern specialties like buttermilk-fried chicken. Harry learned the style and recipes easily and, before long, he was cooking without needing to refer to the recipe or ask for help from one of the senior cooks.

Oddly enough, more and more creature-descendants started frequenting the restaurant, out numbering the human customers with ease. Harry's boss was even a creature-descendant, some dog-like creature with really stunning blue eyes and her woge had her grow short fur that covers most of her face and body except around her mouth. Kenya was stern and precise, but she treated Harry politely and only stared him down before accepting him into the 'group' so to speak.

 ** _OoO_**

He stared at the thin, shining thread of magic attached to his bottomless pouch in his truck that connected to his Gringotts vaults. He grabbed it carefully, just in case he accidently broke the strand, and let his mind follow its connection. His mental body slammed face first into an invisible wall, still holding the string that went through one of the tiniest pinpricks in the wall.

He sighed. This was probably take a while.

 ** _OoO_**

Wandering around late at night in a city wasn't the safest thing in the world, but Harry was a Gryffindor - prone to being reckless and impulsive - and all he wanted was some fresh air/magic and a nice walk. Two weeks had a new routine: get up, go to work, come home and try to contact Gringotts with little progress, read some magic books he found in his vaults, practice magic, going to sleep, and repeating the cycle.

To be honest, this was the most peaceful and calm Harry has felt in . . . well, a while. The cool wind ruffled his already-messy hair and Harry took a moment to just bask in it, turning his head upwards towards the half-moon and just breathing.

Until the ambient magic suddenly hooked around his and pulled, making Harry almost cough up a lung and stumble to the left, where it was directing him. Recovering, Harry activated his mage sight to see the swirling magic coiling around him like an agitated snake. Once he paid attention to it, it made a "road" of bright orange, for some reason, and continued to push him from behind to follow it.

Ever since the living tree thing and just living in the wizarding world in general, Harry braced himself for whatever would happen and followed the figurative road. Eventually, he was out of the main city and in the rows of neighborhoods, where the giant and beautiful houses were nothing like Private Drive's were.

He stopped in front of one house, looking at the door where the magic disappeared behind, and looked longingly back to the city and his apartment, wishing he could just go to sleep now. Magic nudged him again, more anxious and aggressive, so Harry sighed and unlocked it with a quick alohomora, unconcerned with the other muggles since he had already charmed himself with the notice-me-not.

The house was dark, as expected since it was around one in the morning, but the shattered glass of a vase by a broken window was not as normal and gave Harry an entirely different impression of what was going to happen. Shoulders tense, wand out, and a wordless Quieting charm; Harry steps past the glass into the living room where a man stood over another.

" _Petrificus Totalus_!" Harry whispered and the spray of ghostly white had the man's body instantly freeze. He fell over, directly covering the body and causing a rather loud banging noise to echo through the room. Harry winced, racing forward to push the man off, ignoring the reverberating growls and glower his glowing eyes held in the dark. The growl cut off abruptly, which Harry ignored since almost every Wesen had paused when looking at him, and instead was trying to find the injured man's pulse.

Harry realized the man has lost his arm and his intestines were exposed, causing him to lose way too much blood, some of which now covered Harry's hands and soaked his pants where he was kneeling, and that the man must have been standing there watching the other die for a good minute or so since he was already too far gone even with potions or what miniscule amount of healing magic Harry knew. He was too late. Harry wished he had run over rather than walking, wondering if the man would even be injured since the magic had given him a rather early heads up, and closed his eyes to respect the dead.

The ambient magic was no longer clustering around him and instead, seemed to integrate the man's tiny squib-like magic into itself. There was a vague sense of loss and a contradictory gain, but no anger because this was a normal cycle of life and magic. This was his first mistake, but no one could expect Harry to know and understand what magic had been pushing him to do. Although he knew it wasn't his fault, Harry would take this as a lesson to trust this new, wild magic more.

While he was distracted by his thoughts, the man somehow managed to slowly break apart the full-body binding curse and lash out, almost hitting Harry if not for Harry's reflexes. The man jumped to his feet, wobbly but able, and _woged_. His skin decayed, and hair greyed, nasty wrinkles and sore spots appearing as lips withered away and teeth were bared. His eyes even turned glassy and completely dried-blood red with no pupil or whites.

Harry, having seen this once before with a blonde business woman, only slightly reacted with a grimace. The man thrust out his hand and an invisible force flung Harry off his feet, which Harry automatically softened with a silent _protego_ shield, and Harry spun together spells the moment he recovered. His spells were either dodged or reflected by the _Wesen's_ power. Harry's Stinning hex and _Levicorpos_ hit the man almost at the same time, the creature making a terrible screeching noise before being violently pulled by his feet by an invisible rope to hang upside down.

The moment Harry was about to question him, police sirens were loud in his ears and Harry could hear the footsteps outside. The Wesen immediately used his own power to blast himself out the window, disappearing into the shadows just as the front door slammed open and police officers stormed the house.

Harry threw his hands up in surrender, an awkward and resigned smile curling his lips as he chuckled nervously at the police pointing their guns in his direction from the door frame.

"I swear I didn't do this," Harry tried, but their expressions were unsympathetic and unamused. Harry _was_ standing next to the body, murder weapon at his feet and hands bloody in his attempt to save the creature-descendant. All in all, not convincing in the least.

Bugger.

 ** _000000000000000000000_**

 ** _Heh, heh, heh. Cliffhanger._**

 ** _For some who thought it was too slow, this was when I had planned for Harry to meet the Grimm characters. It just so happened that Harry meets them while being under suspicion for murder._**

 ** _*cackles*_**


End file.
